


Silence

by shslshark



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: :)))), M/M, this starts off fluffy but will develop into pain beware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:18:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslshark/pseuds/shslshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eventual dark!poe (you will know what I mean as the story progresses..........)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment that means a lot to me?? thank you for reading this !

Where am I?"

 

Finn attempted to sit up but failed; he tested his arms, seeing if they were mobile, but quickly found that they weren't. He could move his head though, and it gave him an almost 180 degree view of the room. To his right, there was a vase full of fresh flowers, with more beds that lined the walls and patients that lay awake or asleep, either not wanting or too sick to move. None of them seemed strapped down like he was. It was clear he was in a med bay; monitors beeped regulations and IVs dripped into people from long plastic tubes.

 

To his left, everything seemed to be the same, except his vision was blocked by a man in a blazing orange jumpsuit, his head knocked back and his legs spread rather wide, his arm crooked over the edge of the chair as he snored. The other arm was hung in the air, but only due to the position it was in, and the fact that he was gripping onto Finn as though he would never let go, his fingers gripping bruises onto his arm. If he looked close enough, he could see a small line of drool running down his chin through his stubble. 

 

If he ignored that detail, Finn thought he was quite handsome. 

 

"Hello?" he called again, not wanting to wake anybody, but also not wanting to sit there alone in solemn and creepy silence, it only breaking whenever the person next to him decided to let out a sound that could only be described as "man chokes on sandwich, lets out a noise simulating death." He struggled with the leather straps keeping him down for a moment before realizing it was useless; he wasn't getting out without the help of someone else. Maybe if he bribed the guy, then he could get out. 

 

"Excuse me, uh, sir?" he whispered, his voice low as to not disturb the other patients. "Can you wake up and answer a few questions of mine?" 

 

He got a snort in return, followed by the man turning over and slumping further into his (uncomfortable-looking) chair. Finn frowned and debated on a.) yelling to get someone's attention, or b.) waiting it out till dawn came and the nurses started to trickle in. He decided on the first and immediately regretted it 10 seconds later.

 

Before those 10 seconds were up, he managed to call out to the person beside him, snap him from his sleep (which was harder than expected, but doable), let him wipe the line of spit that was painted on his face as he realized who was talking to him, and be unable to stop him from rapidly pushing a button that lead to several nurses dashing in, the overhead lights flung on in a white blaze. 

 

Finn squinted, and when his vision cleared, he could feel a weight clutching his chest, hands digging into his clothes and gripping them so hard that he thought the other might rip them off on accident. He didn't know what to do; stormtrooper policy would have been to immediately throw him off or assess whether or not he needed comfort. He couldn't do either one of them, as his hands were still bound.

 

When the first nurse arrived, she practically threw the man off of Finn by grabbing his collar and tossing him back into his chair. He immediately composed himself and began babbling to him, his words strung into rapid sentences that he couldn't keep up with. He just listened to whoever he was and tried to figure out his relation to this guy. If looks had anything to do with it, he didn't deny that he wished they were a little more than friends. 

 

"...for 2 days, haven't showered, probably smell a little. I'm actually starving, can't really remember the last time I ate. Want me to get you something? Cause I can totally do that. But if you don't want any, that's fine, I don't mind, I won't leave until I know you're all better, okay?" He finished his drabble, his energy levels through the roof, his leg bouncing up and down faster than he was talking. 

 

The other nurses quickly filed in and began running tests, both on physical and mental levels. They marked off pamphlets and told Poe (the name Finn discovered belonged to the man that wouldn't stop gushing) that if he was to be of any help, than he would get up and go do something out of their hair. 

 

He wouldn't listen. No matter how much the ladies bugged him, he was rooted to his chair and would not budge. He seemed determined that if he was going to leave, someone would have to carry him out, rather than him walking away on his own terms. Finn find it somewhat endearing; this person, this Poe, was so bent on not leaving his side that he was willing to put himself against those that had higher authoritative decision in the specific situation. It made him smile.

 

No, don't smile. You have no reason to smile. You know better, that was the rule; if you didn't have a purpose for smiling, then you didn't. Standard stormtrooper rule. 

 

Poe looked over at him every so often, casting glances as his hand bounced up and down on his shaking thigh. He was a rather jittery and nervous person, it seemed, as he never stopped moving. His eyes held something akin to desperation, but they also twinkled with relief. He wondered what Poe's job around the base was.

 

The base.

 

What base was this?

 

"Um, excuse me," he started, but a piece of bread was shoved in his mouth before he could continue. He mumbled the rest of his sentence through jagged bites, his teeth having to work a little. It was hard, as though it had been there for a while. When he swallowed, he tried again. "Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked, gently gripping one of the nurse's elbow as she walked past. "Where am I? What base is this?"

 

"Why, sweetie, you're on the Resistance's home planet," she replied, prying his arm off as she stuck a needle in the soft skin surrounding the crook of his elbow. Finn winced a little but didn't complain. "Can you tell me your name?"

 

He paused. His... name? He didn't have a real name. He was just a serial number, a length of code to be tagged for surveillance, a barely noticeable blip on the radar of the bigger scheme of things. "Sir?" the nurse asked again. He looked up suddenly, snapping from his train of thought.

 

"Oh, yeah, my name is FN-2187," he replied, trying to move his hands again and noting with a subtle satisfaction they were free.

 

That is, until he said that string of numbers. They were immediately snapped back into the leather belts that prevented him from (what he assumed was) lashing out.

 

"Poe, you know what to do," a lady said as she walked by, her heels clicking and her clipboard held stealthily in her hand, a pen twirling on the other. "We thought this would happen."

 

As soon as she said that, the pilot was in Finn's face, his eyes a deep, twinkling brown, and he was pretty sure that if his hands hadn't been attached to his sides, he would've used one to brush back the curls that fell in front of them.

 

Why had he thought of that?

 

"Hey, buddy," he said, his tone light, a whimsical note to it that resonated somewhere in the back of the ex-trooper's mind, but he couldn't register it. "My name is Poe Dameron. I'm a pilot, and I'm with the Resistance. Can you tell me who you work for?" He smelt heavily of cold ocean air and jasmine. 

 

The first answer to come to mind was the thing out of his mouth. "I work for the First Order; I was sentenced into the stormtrooper program at a young age and have been trained since birth."

 

The ends of Poe's lips curled up, and a chuckle ran deep in his chest. "That's not true. You're not a troop anymore; you're part of the Resistance. You bailed on the First Order and saved me, then you blew up Starkiller Base," he quipped, leaning a little back so that he wasn't so close to Finn. Another lady jabbed the patient's arm, but he ignored it, taking care not to wince as to look like a wimp in front of his (incredibly attractive) new "friend."

 

"Was I in a coma? How long have I been out?" 

 

"For... for a couple of days. Not an extensive amount of time. I've been waiting here since we took you in from the battle. Admittedly, I probably don't smell great, cause I kinda haven't moved except to use the bathroom for a solid 48 hours, but that's not the point," the pilot laughed, a warm and delicate sound that vibrated in the air and made it feel comforting. "Do you know who I am?"

 

Finn could see something conflict on Poe's face. It was hidden well, under a mask, not unlike that of a stormtrooper's, where you couldn't tell who was who and what they were feeling, but it was definitely there. It flinched across his face at his words, disappearing as quickly as it had come. He could read regret, guilt, and a hint of hope.

 

"I know your name is Poe Dameron, because I heard you and the nurses say it. But, other than that... I'm sorry. On a personal level, I don't know who you are."

 

Just like that, the hope flickered out.

 

Finn watched as Poe seemed to slip from one world and into another, staring off at some distance that he couldn't see, his eyes darting back and forth with an urgency that they needed to leave his body and go elsewhere. 6 simple words, and his cheery and chipper attitude had dissipated within a matter of seconds. It stung Finn, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. But wasn't it? Could it have been his fault?

 

It probably was.

 

"Poe?" he stammered, afraid that whatever he would say next would send him out of the room. That was the last thing he wanted; his face was the nicest object his eyes had been given the gift of looking upon as the first sight he saw when he awoke. "I'm sorry, I-"

 

"No, no!" Poe started, unsure of how he wanted to word what he needed (but didn't want) to say. "It's... fine, really. Don't worry about it." He had a sneaking suspicion that Finn knew it wasn't "fine," and he was glad that the ex trooper didn't have the finesse to bring it up. "Are you hungry? Let's get you something to eat."

 

The pilot (who was relatively short, Finn realized) got up and quickly undid the straps on one hand, then hovered over the left one and looked him dead in the eyes. "You're not gonna try and shoot me the minute you can, right? We don't know how far your training is wired into your memory, since, ya know, your amnesia is pre-break out of First Order, destroy their social constructs, that kinda thing." The look in Finn's eye must have read enough for Poe to just go ahead and untie him without waiting for an answer. 

 

Finn swung his legs out of the sheets, his lower half somewhat sweaty, as he hadn't realized he was oddly... nervous being around Poe. Why? The question that rang through his head whenever he glanced at him, traced the chiseled perfection of his cheekbones, the slight stubble peppering his chin, the dazzling brown that melted into pools of soft gold when reflected in the light, his tousled hair that looked like it came out of a shampoo commercial, and oh, those /lips/, they-

 

What was he thinking? He needed to shut up, before his mouth caught up with his brain and he said something stupid. He cleared his mind and took a wobbly step forward, his balance almost being thrown off as he tumbled a little unsteadily into Poe's arms, which were waiting for him. He bounced back up and tried not to dwell on the lingering touch of skin on flawless skin. 

 

"Yeah, no, I don't want you walking halfway across base. Hang on," the Yavin native said, twirling on his heel and walking off momentarily for something he needed. When he came back, Finn understood; the black refinery that made the wheelchair was looking up at him from below his waist. He gently sat down, a small puff of air from the cushion swirling 

dust into the atmosphere, and he sneezed. 

 

"Is that better?" The pure concern for his wellbeing that edged in Poe's voice was enough to make his insides flutter. 

 

"Yes, thank you. I can push myself, if you want," he replied, taking the wheels in the palm of his hands and pushing with a small nudge. He winced a tad; every movement he did seemed to cause racing electricity that translated to pain for a few moments before it died down.

 

"I can do it," the other cooed, his tone low and happy, comforting. He gripped the plush handles and began walking out of the med bay and into the hustle and bustle of the daily traffic flow in Resistance hallways. He was prepared to be yelled at by the nurses tomorrow; he hadn't bothered to sign out, or even tell anyone of remote importance that he was taking their most important patient away for a breakfast run.

 

Finn held on to the edge of the seat, his knuckles lightening as he was sped along through the busy roads, where people were /everywhere/; fixing something, talking, walking, checking blasters, watching the jets take off, and an assortment of other things that Finn couldn't keep track of. Every skid and sharp turn Poe had to make made Finn feel a little sick inside, but he didn't want to say anything. His stomach was rumbling, and he needed food.

 

"So here's the deal. Mess hall is great; love the food, love the atmosphere, love the people. But," he paused for dramatic effect as he nudged some doors open and let Finn roll himself through before he grabbed back on. "Since you're so used to shit rations and gross meals, I'm gonna make you something instead. Something from Yavin 4, where I grew up. Is that okay? There's like, three ingredients, so you shouldn't be allergic to any of them, unless you are, in which case we have a hospital wing for a reason." He came to a stop in front of two wooden oak doors that swung upon with carts that dodged out of their way. 

 

"Sounds... great." Finn smiled, his heart lifting a little. Someone cooking a meal specifically for him? He could tell that Dameron was breaking some kind of rule, but nobody seemed too stressed with him loitering around the back area, so he assumed this wasn't an abnormal thing for him to do. "Thank you."

 

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't made anything for you," he laughed and went inside, pushing Finn to a back stove that wasn't in use and running off to get supplies.

 

Finn sat there, a little awkward, waiting for him to get back. It made him uncomfortable, being left alone, especially if it was Poe who was walking away. He had an eerie feeling that he had left Poe once already, when he slipped away into his sleep and didn't wake up. The odd thing was though, he was much less nervous without Poe there; something about the man made him feel... different, almost guilty, a longing for something he wanted, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Of course, whenever Poe came back around, Finn didn't mind him being there at all.

 

"Tortillas, sour cream, frijoles, queso, ajo dulce, if you have a sweet tooth," the pilot rambled off ingredients as he set them down and began working. He would dash around the kitchen, picking up utensils and precariously tossing them in the general direction of his station, hoping Finn would catch at least some of them. He threw a knife at one point, hard and heavy, and it thudded into the framing of the window right above the stove. He ran back over and began organizing what was necessary as he started to cook. 

 

In less than 10 minutes, Finn's stomach was pinging with hunger, a deep rumble emitting from it whenever he smelt the food starting to heat. He had a full plate in front of him in less than 15.

 

"Quesadillas," Poe said, ripping one in half and taking a bite. The cheese came out in a long strand that he had to suck into his mouth to keep it from slipping away. Finn warily poked at it, hoping that Poe was right, and that he wasn't allergic to anything. "It doesn't taste bad. Try it. My Papa taught my siblings and I to cook; Mama wasn't exactly the best at it." 

 

Finn picked it up and bit into it, chewing slowly at first before almost moaning in ecstasy. Whatever a "quesadilla" was, Finn never wanted to eat anything else. He finished it rather quickly, rapidly swallowing the last bite and pretending he wasn't disappointed due to the fact that he wouldn't get another one, that is, until Poe casually slid the rest of his on Finn's plate (which was an entire half) and let him devour it. 'I can eat later,' was the pilot's thought; the infidelity on Finn's face was too good not to savor, if but for a few minutes longer. "Was it good?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Finn leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling.

 

"In all my life, never have I tasted something so good," he said, keeping himself from drifting off mid sentence. "Thank you, really."

 

"Of course. Unfortunately, the chefs don't always let me back here. They say I "make too much racket" and I "take all the good ingredients." But I can get in sometimes, so if you ever want something, I can try and make it for you," Poe replied, running a hand through his hair. 

 

"I'll have to take you up on that," he laughed, a small sound, almost equivalent to a giggle, but deeper. For some odd reason, he felt his cheeks heat up drastically. 

 

"Cool. It's a date, then," the other shrugged and walked around behind the chair again so that he could wheel Finn out of the kitchen before he got yelled at (again) by the cranky old woman that ran the place. 

 

While they were walking, Poe telling Finn all about the base, who people were ("Who's that?" "That's Rey's girlfriend." "Who?" "Never mind."), the ex trooper stopped Poe by setting his feet down and causing the chair to stutter. The pilot walked around the front and leaned on the window, his elbow propping him up as his chin rested on his hand. "What's up?"

 

Finn's eyes were attached to a couple across the airway, one apparently a pilot, the other what he believed to be a lieutenant. They were standing close to each other, rocking back and forth, their lips barely brushing. The military leader put one hand on the girl's head and kissed her, deep and passionate, before he had to break away on an order run as she jumped into her ship.

 

"Ah, yes, romance. Beautiful, really, if you're with the right person," Poe commented, rather offhandedly. Of course he wasn't thinking about Finn, his lips full and his cheeks flushed with color as he gently nipped at him with his teeth, his heart racing and- 

 

He had to stop himself before he actually attempted anything. "What's got you so interested? You never seen someone be kissed before?" His pitch was curious, void of sarcasm or disdain.

 

"Uh," Finn felt his face heat up, his lower lip catching between his teeth, his heart stuttering for some odd reason he couldn't place. "No, not really. We never... kissed in training, so... just, no. Um, does it have to be with someone you're in a relationship with?"

 

"Technically no, as long as both sides are mutual. I don't advise kissing anyone without asking first," he snorted, speaking from experience. He glanced over at the other, his nose warming the glass with his breath, he was so close to it. It was as though he wanted to jump out and find the nearest person to try it on. Which was Poe. 

 

Great.

 

"So, if I was to, say, ask you," the darker one quipped, a sharp hollow sound that was trying too hard to be emotionless and was failing miserably. "Would you teach me? I don't know if this is something you could learn, or if it's impromptu, or..." he trailed off. 

 

Contrary to popular belief, Finn wasn't dumb. Not that he was considered an idiot normally, just that he could be a little slow on catching up with regular actions people that /hadn't/ gone through extensive battle training since birth did on a regular basis. However, he knew what kissing was. He knew how it worked. He also knew to grab opportunities when he saw them. This one was rather particular, and the mission? Act oblivious, pretend like he doesn't know what he's doing, and see if he can get Poe Dameron (the best pilot in the resistance) to kiss him. Easy enough. He looked up at Poe, who he could tell was a little antsy, shifting his weight and biting his lip rather aggressively. 

 

Oh yeah, definitely easy.

 

"Is this an offer?" Poe started before he realized how awkward that sounded and clamped his mouth shut again. Finn made him so unreasonably nervous, so flustered and it drove him NUTS; he was Poe Dameron, for gods sake, the big notorious flirt that made all the girls on the base weak at the knees (and some men and what have you as well), and yet a guy he barely knew made him feel like he was falling off of a roof. Just talking to him made the blood in his ears rush louder every time. "I mean, I can explain it to you."

 

"When we trained in the First Order, we learned by hands on activity. So... I guess you could say I'm more of a kinesthetic learner," he shrugged, playing it off as though he really was clueless. When you're a stormtrooper, you don't get to be touchy feely; it was a quick, shove into a janitors closet, make out for a second just to see what it was like, and then rush out before you got caught. That was how it worked; he wondered if kissing Poe would be any different. He didn't want the pilot to explain it to him, he wanted him to show him. "So if you plan on teaching me, you'll have to be a little specific. Is that weird? I don't know..."

 

"No!" Poe chirped, a little (or a lot) too eagerly. "No, it's not weird, I don't think. Ah, we can... I can show you, if you want?" He felt the tips of his ears flush pink, his eyes sparkling with a happiness that he hoped would stay concealed. He wasn't supposed to be excited about this; Finn had just woken up, barely knew him, had hardly gotten anything in his stomach, and now he wanted to kiss him? Poe shut down the subject that this could be purely anything more than a little curiosity and a little casual platonicity. He swallowed, a lump growing in his throat. 

 

"Yeah, that'd be cool," Finn smiled sheepishly, playing the innocence bit rather well. He had even managed to get his dark skin to flush a little deeper. He cast a glance up at Poe from his seat and held his hand out, allowing the other to grasp it and (gently) yank him up. He caught his balance and leaned against the window, his backside pressing against the clear glass. He was feeling quite jittery all of a sudden; the thought that this wasn't in his imagination, and was happening rather quickly, was a thought he didn't want to lose. He didn't consider it a bad thing. What if he and Poe had been together before his coma? What if they had done this plenty of times, and he just didn't remember? If he had known Poe before this, then technically, by timely laws, he wasn't a stranger. Plus he had permission, so it was allowed, at the very least.

 

Poe tried his best to turn back on his "swagger," as some would refer to it as, and cautiously walked up to Finn until they were inches away, his waist pressing against the other's, the vest he had on a little bulky, so he slipped it off and let it hit the floor with a thunk. He then stopped, watching, waiting, not wanting to do anything that would set Finn off. He was fragile after all he'd been through, and he didn't want to be the one to break him any further. "Just watch, okay? Or... feel, I guess," he murmured, his eyes half-lidding already, the anticipation giving his heart intense palpitations, as though it would give out at any time. He placed a hand on the window behind him, supporting his weight as he laid one on the back of Finn's head and closed the gap between them.

 

They both seemed to implode at the same time, Finn's hands immediately finding their way to Poe's hair, gripping on as though he was the only thing grounding him. Poe instinctively dropped the hand holding himself up and pressed himself flush against Finn, not bothering with formalities. Damn, the kid was good; he moved with a strange passion, one that Poe wasn't used to. He was used to bruised lips, anger hinted in everything, and scraped backs with forked tongues. Finn was different, a softer kind of heat, one that didn't force its way into anything, burning with a kinder light that sprouted from his chest and worked its way into everything he touched. Poe shivered involuntarily, letting his hands wander, one calmly rubbing circles into his back, the other one trailing lightly against his collarbone. Finn let out a little gasp when Poe nibbled at his bottom lip, nothing harsh, but nothing he was used to. None of it was; all of this was foreign, new, intriguing. To him, Poe was everything, the short span that they were touching, his stubble scratching at his chin, his gorgeous chocolate eyes fluttering closed, all of it causing him to go weak at the knees.

 

He loved every moment of it.

 

He only stopped when he heard the shrill whistling of a certain droid spinning down the hallway.

 

Poe snapped his head, breaking free from the spell he had sunk into when he saw the orange and white bundle speeding at him as quickly as it could move. It was there in no time, deliberately smacking into Finn's legs to get between them. The pilot stumbled back, bending down so that he was eye level with it.

 

"Hey, buddy, what's up?"

 

A series of beeps followed and he nodded, patting the metal casing and sending BB-8 on its way. It scrambled off, accidentally clipping the corner of the wall. It backed up and made the turn successfully the second time. Poe watched it go before turning back to Finn, not realizing how deep his cheeks had reddened. "Class is over, I'm afraid. I have to fly somewhere and take out some First Order conspirators." He patted the ex trooper's shoulder awkwardly before turning away. He paused before he could get anywhere, remembering something. He shook his head, his hair flipping with the motion, and a little ear piece came out into his hand. He held it up to the light before pressing it into Finn's hand, curling his fingers around the chip and holding them there, purposefully lingering. 

 

Platonic, Poe. Keep it casual. He doesn't feel the same as you. He doesn't know you.

 

"This is my comm unit. I want you to man it for me while I'm gone. It'll keep me connected to the base; my other one is in my jet. If at any point you can't hear me anymore, or the transmitter goes fuzzy, I'm in trouble or I'm dead. Can I trust you to listen in and make sure everything is fine?"

 

Finn cleared his throat, albeit nervous. Poe was essentially handing him his lifeline, the only thing tying him to the planet, let alone the system if something goes wrong. 

 

"Buddy?"

 

The word snapped his attention back, thoughts of every scenario that could possibly happen being pushed back into the deep recesses of his mind. "Yes, I can do that. Thank you," he replied, barely audible. Poe grinned, a cheeky one, one that could either be interpreted as "you're a good man," or "when I get back, another lesson will have to happen."

 

Finn couldn't decide which option he liked better.

 

Poe moved away from Finn, his footsteps echoing down the hall. He waved, a quick one, just a simple flutter of his hand, but it was enough to make Finn's heart thump a little faster and a little louder. He watched him go and run out on the runway to his jet. He was in and setting his blasters in less than a minute; in less than 5, he was in the air and ready for hyper speed.

 

"All units, this is Black Leader, reporting from X-Wing 9834," Poe's voice crackled over the comm. About 4 other pilots responded to the message with their names and ship numbers. "Prepare for hyperdrive. The system we target is Ralthien, where the Valandrites have taken the planet and are working under orders of the First Order. Take out everything you see; anything that looks like a threat at their base, you destroy. Copy."

 

The other pilots responded, not being able to hear the quiet "Go get em, buddy," that came from Finn's own private message.

 

Little did he know that Poe could hear him in his jet, and little did he know that that was what made him fly just a little bit faster.

**Author's Note:**

> time for comments :)))


End file.
